


What Fate Demands

by orphan_account



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, POV Original Character, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Shapeshifter's life crosses an elf destined to die.





	1. What is life?

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning... This is probably the most random, self indulgent and oddest fics I have or will ever write.  
> It is strange and frankly I cringe at where my mind was when I wrote this... but It's a weird little thing I did enjoy vomiting onto the page because why the hell not? I could.  
> Should I have?  
> That's all a matter of opinion.
> 
> My work is not Beta-ed.

Many winters ago one of the Dúnedain had asked lightly, “have you considered you may be some kind of orc?”

Though you knew he meant it in jest, it was a path you had not dared to think of. It was also one query that left you weary, as the ultimate question had still remained unanswered.

 

Middle earth played host to a great deal many creatures. Hundreds of species in their own right with enough sentience to even name themselves and their causes. Yet still, for all the roads you had traveled and all the paths you had crossed, there was still not one that came close to telling you what you were.

 

Your mother, you knew, had been human. She had been lovely even as she withered and aged- of the old blood, but still, she had faded and died as all humans do in their own time, in the span of 60 years. There was no doubt of her race or lineage, but of your father… she had never spoken of him save to tell you he had never returned. Even in death she did not speak of what he was, only professing that she loved you and had been so blessed you had been born to her.

It was frustrating, but still you did not blame her. Not for many years did you feel it mattered. You were of human descent, you would fade just as your mother and likely just as your father… only in your lonely years it was not to be so. 

 

It was not on your 80th birthday that you really began to suspect something was amiss, but on your 130th… because surely by then you would have at least BEGUN to age in some appreciable way- all half breeds did. It was then you began your journey to seek out Dúnedain… the legendary race of men gifted with long life. You did not find them until your 140th, and by then you began to suspect there was something very, very wrong. Their race was still strong then, their ages of little concern or surprise to any. They lived much like the elves, save their rituals for they had none.

But even they, for all their wisdom could not claim you. They allowed you to stay, understanding the burden of long life for those who had never meant to have it, but even they began to wither away.

You watched for generations as they too passed, and you remained the same ever-young. Some suggested you might be an elf and urged you to seek out your potential kin, but for all that, you could not go to them. Your ears were not unlike that of humans- like that of the Dúnedain and so the elves would never claim you.. but more than that, the thought twisted in your mind and brought fear any time it drew near. You could not go to the elves. It would not do.

 

And so it came you were the enigma the Dúnedain did not claim, yet allowed to stay. A wanderer in their wood, but one who never strayed far, for where could you go?

So it came that you watched as they dwindled and died… with no real will to continue their lines as did that of men. Time wearied too many of them.

So it came that another stranger came to them, seeking nothing save that of exile. A young man, you believed. Human. But it was not so. He came to them, lived with them, learned all he could, and he aged as they did- slow and methodical.

He took up the name of 'Strider’ and would eventually leave them. To you this was just yet another occurrence that would fade into the slow passage of your unending time… or so you thought.

 

An elf came. A prince of the wood with eyes that had seen too many unpleasantries, but carried determination like nothing else. He was a strange folk, nothing like that you had ever heard, and it was he that asked Strider to leave.

You sat with them the eve before their departure, in the company of many of the Dúnedain. You did not make yourself overtly know to them, yet did not profess to hide either, though the gaze of that elf made you shy away any time it would pass too close.

It was on this night you had been asked..

 

What of the orcs? 

None you knew could say what their lifespan was. Many died in battle by the hand of Freeman, or their own kin. Such a violent lot were they… yet the stories were that orcs and the like had been descended from elves. That black magic and darker powers had twisted and malformed all of their being.

Who was to say they did not live immortal lives if they were not cleanly cut from them?

 

This thought, this question you had successfully ignored for nearly a thousand years, would not let you be.

Two winters after the elf and ranger had left your company, it still had not left you. It bore at you like a festering wound and made all the world seem wrong.

 

The stress gave way to more things, strangeness you somehow knew would come, yet could never have expected.

 

You were on a stroll of sorts… wandering the woods of the Dúnedain rangers as you did when one of those you would call friend leapt out of the shadows with his blade drawn.

You barely managed to deflect with a startled query.

 

“What,” you called, “are you  _ doing _ ?!”

 

“Quiet orc scum,” he spat. “I'll not have you taint these woods.”

 

Your dagger immediately fell from your grip as you backed yourself into a tree. He lunged for you and you dodged with a cry.

 

He came at you with a ferociousness you had never seen aimed so intently and eventually you could take no more.

 

“STOP,” you cried, and he did.

 

Suspended in midair, yet somehow unharmed, he sat. His eyes darted all around and looked upon you with fear rimmed in curiosity.

 

“What are you,” he asked, “that has such power?”

 

You stumbled backwards once more in shock. Tripping over a root you fell and just as suddenly he was released.

 

Fear and uncertainty gripping you, you looked to your friend and cried.

 

“You must remember that I do not know! What magic has gripped you that you do not recognize your friend?”

 

The Dúnedain looked upon you with naught but confusion. He glanced over his shoulders and traced the woods with his eyes before he looked back to your prone form.

 

“You are alone?”

 

“I am always alone,” you cried. “wandering your woods as I have these many generations, yet ne’er been shown hostility. My friend, what have I done to deserve your blade?”

 

The Dúnedain dropped his blade, staring at you in disbelief. 

“What sorcery has claimed you?”

 

His question was barely whispered, yet meant for your ears.

You did not understand.

 

Helping you up, with haste he took you to one of the clear pools hidden deep within the woods and asked you to gaze upon yourself in its waters.

You leaned over and gasped in horror, for truly you looked like that of an orc.

 

“No! This cannot be!! It had only been a suggestion, what manner of trickery has been placed on me?!”

 

“Suggestion?”

 

You looked to your friend, grateful he  _ was _ once again, with tearful eyes.

 

“One of your own had asked if I was that of orc descent… I truly do not know.. but to suddenly look so like them… when I have never done so before...”

 

After several silent minutes of deliberation, you not knowing what to do, the Dúnedain called you and took your hand.

 

“Come,” he said, “let us confer with my people. Let us see if we cannot find the source of whatever magic has been cast upon you, for you truly are our friend and it pains me to see you so frightful.”

  
  


He led you carefully through the woods, away from eyes that would mark you enemy without chance to speak. He led you to their camp which was just as familiar as it had always been.

Several of his people jumped in alarm, but were quickly quelled thanks to his hand.

All were summoned, many of your friends looking upon you with disdain, yet you could no longer weep, for what good would your tears bring?

 

“Why have we been summoned,” an elder asked. “What is this creature you bring with you?”

 

You held your tongue and hung your head, unknowing of the answer yourself. You knew less now of what you were than ever before.

You friend spoke for you, gently bringing up your gaze to look upon those you had cared for since their beginnings.

 

“Our friend,” he said, “while in form twisted and dark, holds still their eyes pure and true. Some manner of sorcery has twisted them unknowingly and without harm. What say you to this?”

 

Several murmurs and gasps were heard and a hush fell upon all.

 

“Sorcery? In our woods?” One finally spoke- a younger.

 

Another elder, whom you knew to speak very little stood and approached you. All were silent as he kneeled and gazed deep into your eyes. 

You felt your soul being raized, if by gentle hands as he tried to find an answer to your sudden blight.

You knew he would find there no knowledge of this, no memory of anything unsavory, but you did not know what is was he was searching for, or what is was that he  _ would _ find.

 

Finally he stepped away with a thoughtful demeanor.

 

He called to you, gently, while gazing towards the stars as if they held the answer themselves.

 

“You have always professed in honesty the missing knowledge of what you are,” he said, “but tell me… do you know WHO it is that you are?”

 

Your tears instantly dried in your eyes and, just as your mother had taught you those many years past, you closed them. You reached deep within yourself, touching the familiar peace that resided in being who you were. A simple person with simple desires. Never wanting of adventure or harm to those who never deserved it. A person who had been happy to remain alone in the mountains, alone in the cottage they were raised as the world slowly grew around them. A person who was content not to know or move from not knowing for hundred of years, instead relishing in the beauty of the woods and all things that grew.

 

A collective gasp woke you from yourself, and while his back was still to you, the elder was nodding in understanding.

 

He turned back and seemed unsurprised as yet the rest of his company was. He gently passed you a silver bowl with the barest line of water poured into it and asked you to gaze once more at your reflection.

 

To your surprise and shock, your face had returned to normal.

 

“What-” you choked, “what is this? What is going on?”

 

The elder shook his head and once more took his seat.

 

“It is not entirely of my understanding, dear one,” he said, “but I must profess to having watched you these many long years.

The Dúnedain could never provide you with answer to what you were, but secretly there has been passed down a curiosity about you, one you have tried to lose within yourself.”

 

“A curiosity?”

 

A small few of the others nodded, though none seemed to have the same weight behind the duty as did the elder.

 

“Yes… When it was found that truly you did not age, as the elves do not, yet had the appearance of a human, a sire past took up a book and began to try and decipher all the secrets of your immortality.”

 

The elder went to his satchel and pulled out a large leather bound book to recognized as his journal, only this time when he opened it, he allowed you to see its contents.

He placed the book on your lap and opened the book to its first page.

The writing was ancient, old and worn, but still decipherable. It spoke of the day you first arrived and you remembered.

 

It called you a beautiful creature, the likes of which many Dúnedain fell in love with, but few were ever willing to hope to claim. You seemed but a humble human, and for all that you seemed you were… yet claimed to be much older than could be possible. They could not deny you hospitality, and they did not want to, yet it was understood you were strange. There was a magic about you.

 

“A magic?” you ask. 

 

The elder nodded and flipped the pages until it came to a drawing you had no idea ever existed. It was of your face, smiling and lineless. It was you, only… as you did not age, no lines were now on your face, but your face now you saw was not the same.

 

Startled, you read the description that came with the image.

 

' _ She is fair and beautiful,’ _ it said, ' _ an enigma. Untouched by the passage of time, and yet somehow seems to be affected by it. We do not yet know how, but for her sake, I hope we will.’ _

 

The elder flipped more pages until came a different drawing, though not the first he passed. It was still you, yet… somehow you were different. Still not aged a day, but darker. More mysterious. Your face was somehow sharper yet still remained yours.

 

' _ Even as she remains e’er young and fair and true, time does affect this beauty more than is seen. It is not that she ages, but perhaps that she responds to the world around her.. what it is it wants of her.’ _

 

One more time he flipped to a drawing, one that had been done by his great grandfather- you recognized the handwriting- and quietly you covered your mouth with a shaky hand.

 

Still you. Always it was you, yet still you did not look the same as you do now. You had changed yet remained.

 

“What is this,” you asked, “what is it you have found? What… for all that is good, do you believe I am?”

 

The elder one left the book in your lap before standing to light his pipe. His free hand came to rest on his hip as he sighed.

 

“That is still unanswered,” he said. “We know you are true. You wish no harm to befall anyone and have always remained safe within our trees… but there is a magic about you…. You, unknowingly, are adaptive. When there is shortage of food, you need less. When there is abundance of cold, your hide thicker. When there is trouble, you grow more compassionate. And, it seems, are suggestible.”

 

The elder looked to the one who had made jest of your lineage, but without much disdain.

 

“It was suggested you may be orc, and as the thought weighed in your mind, that is what you became. It is no fault of yours...”

 

Reeling, you slowly closed the book and looked to the elder.

 

“I don't understand…”

 

“You are, for lack of better words, a shape shifter.

I cannot answer who or what would gift your human mother with such a child, but perhaps it is a creature we will never find. Perhaps there are those out there- possibly more abundant in your past- who could shift into any form willingly.”

 

“What.. what do you think happened to them?”

It wasn't the question you had wanted to ask, but one that begged an answer all the same.

 

“I believe they may have forgotten who and what they were. That they took up a suggestion and became what it was permanently.. perhaps a tree for how their roots dig into the earth, or a bird soaring for its freedom.. perhaps it was your mother that had been one as well- believing so readily she was human that that's how she died… 

Now I don't believe that of your mother, I do believe you are half human, but I do believe this is what you are… your only missing ability being to turn to that of stone or wood or prey… you can only be forms of soft flesh. Men.”

 

The strangeness of these revelations were almost too much for you. You could feel the stress weighing on you and stood to turn and give yourself a moment.

When you managed to turn back, you saw many of the Dúnedain deep in their own thoughts.

 

After all these lonely years, generations of not knowing and not understanding, you finally had an answer… yet instead of the relief you had hoped would come.. you only felt more alone. Your thoughts followed that path and you came to a disheartening realization.

 

“And… all this time…”

 

The elder turned to look at you.

 

“All this time here, despite my best intentions, I have been causing harm?”

 

You were not certain how he understood your query, but he did. His reply came, “ours was a doomed race anyhow,” and you understood.

You understood that your presence had only doomed them faster. Being so fair and prone to suggestion, you had become what every generation wanted of you, though none dared speak of it. 

You, how you wished it wasn't so, were partially responsible for their extinction. 

Some creatures only loved once. Some could only be loved once.. the Dúnedain, a race in-between that closest to life and closest to death, carried their own curse of love and desire. Desire drove them to love and loyalty. Rarely did they deviate. 

The Dúnedain had kept you safe, had cared for you, had loved you as their enigma, and had died for your sake.

 

Tears came, yet you dared not turn. You dared not speak. The truth was far worse than you could have ever imagined. 

You knew you could remain, that the Dúnedain did not blame you and in fact relished in your existence and company. You knew you would be forever safe and loved even as their race died and withered away. You knew you could be content with wandering and being suggested as a spirit in those woods until some suggestion claimed you.. you knew this. It was the right thing to do.

 

You did not allow yourself to think, for if you had it would have torn you asunder. Your feet moved even as the world twisted in on itself, even as it shifted and tried to keep you.

 

Your feet contacted the mossy floor again and again, over and over. The fate you were born for scrambled to keep you and still you ran. 

The world turned in on itself yet remained at peace. Inside, you felt things shift and tendrils start to snap even as the sun rose quietly as it always did.

It tugged hard, at the edge of the wood, and you leaped as high as you could to avoid it's pull.

With a final gut-wrenching snap, you felt the way of the world groan and move, as if already trying to mend what should not be. Yet all was Silent.

 

You landed heavily, face down in the leaves of autumn and wept. You wept for the hurt of others, you wept for your mistakes how ever innocent, and you wept for the sickening feeling you had just done something  _ terribly _ wrong.

 

The feeling did not leave you for several days. You wandered and stumbled and still it remained. Once you thought about turning back, and the feeling disappeared.. all your guilt and fear had melted the way as you felt that call to home, yet you tore yourself from it. You could not. You would not return. 

You would offer them hope even if it would destroy you to do so. 

You could not allow your friends to die for gazing upon you…

But where would you go?

You had left their woods, but rangers and Dúnedain, perhaps orcs as well would be able to track you.

Despite all you felt you had done wrong and how you felt you deserved it, you did not want death. You wanted sanctuary. Freedom. You wanted none of guilt that ate at you.

 

Perhaps you too could become a ranger.. though you did not know how. The world itself was also changing and perhaps there would.be no more room for rangers… there were whisperings of shifting balances, but balances that were ready to shift, ones the world both wanted and needed.. nothing like what you had done.

Perhaps the elves, you once thought, but fear overtook your heart. It would not do. You were never meant to meet with the line of elves. Humans- while fear remained, they did not live long enough, not did they love so exclusively for you to harm them. They were your choice.

 

So it was that you wandered, listening as you could to the way of the world to determine where it could take you. 

You strayed away any time another race came near, but always tried to find the path to the humans.

 

Years went by before finally you found one. On top of a beautiful hill, a town. Humans thrived and lived there. You would be no different.

 

Other humans arrived and you took your turn to join them. They came with stories of burning and fear and so your story that became. Though you did not remain fair and light. Your wandering and hatred of yourself had bent and bowed your back, had aged your face- but only in appearances. You still felt the strength you had always possessed and knew, if suggestion came, you would easily change…

Still, as your form was withered, the people were kind to you. They treated you justly and allowed you to be their friend, a mentor to the young.. only.. a darkness grew heavier still upon their world. 

One year you remained with them, sharing their fears, their hopes, and for all intentions you became human. Your bones had even begun to feel the weariness you played.. the weariness and weakness you allowed to seep in, for you could choose your time.


	2. Right and Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life lived at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me? Alright!! Shortest chapter.

One year of lies and it came to haunt you.

Riders came to Rohan. Riders filled with power and strength that twisted the world inside of you.

For one was the elf prince, and one was the mysterious exile, Strider. The other two you did not know, but felt the fate within them. 

You thought to run, but your lies had run too deep. You could not remove yourself from them.

 

So it was you gazed upon these lords with pleasant joy as your king returned to you, and with fear should they ever cross your path directly.

 

There were small comforts in the joy- even as many did not return save to be buried- as the king grew strong and his niece smiled again. Fear seemed far off even as people poured in with stories of war.

The world had righted itself and all was as it was meant to be for you.

 

Even as the king called a retreat to Helm's deep, you could only find joy in the Lady Eowyn rallying the old, women, children, and the weak onwards toward the hold.

All was as the world should be…

 

The ranger, strider, or Aragorn as you had heard his name, had returned and the world shifted slightly, but still remained right.

It was easy to be content to ration and exchange comforts for all around you… until night began to fall.

 

Women and children were to be sent into the caves. Were to hide and wait to see.

Men, young and old, any able body was to take up arms and fight. 

 

You knew what the world wanted of you, of what it expected. Comfort lay in those caves. A sense of rightness to protect who you were and keep on with your lies… but in your heart… you could not do it.

 

The world twisted and shifted, just as did your form. It was the most agonizing pain you had ever felt and yet could not convince yourself you deserved any different. Fear and guilt took hold, but as the thought only began to form in your mind to accept your fate, you were called.

 

“You there!! To the armory, and quickly!”

 

A hand grabbed your arm and you ran with them to where you could.

The world continued to twist in on itself until you found in your hands a crude bow. Your preferred weapon. 

The world calmed, something righted again and you felt your peace return.

The world would always find a way.

 

You stood upon the terrace with those who would call you kin, watching their faces contort with fear and worry and you offered what words of strength you could. Happiness came to you, despite all that was wrong, because you knew the world to be right. Should you die this night, all would still be as the world willed it. No more fear.

 

Suddenly a horn sounded in the distance and you felt fear again. Had it been the enemy surely you would not feel that… in fact, it was the horn of the elves.

 

The world twisted once more. You were never to meet the elves…

You crammed yourself close to the border wall and the feeling faded, the world righted again. You would not have to meet them. They were to share the battle, but no more. You would be safe.

  
  


In the chaos of battle, you moved. The walls became unsafe as you fought your hardest and you moved towards the center with all those that could, stepping lightly so as not to trip on the bodies you felled. 

You still carried your bow, arrows not yet depleted, but also held a sword. 

Many uruk-hai fell at your feet to which you felt no remorse.

You saved a scant few of the humans, and still all the world felt right, but when you caught sight of the elves, everything in you screamed.

 

A fire of guilt and fear raced through you.

A lone elf stood on the upper wall where his brethren had fallen, weaving and cutting as many as he could down with his blades… but he was to be doomed, this you could see. Too many were coming upon him.

 

You reached for your arrows, sword falling to your feet and the world screamed. This you could not do, yet you could not hesitate.

 

Your arrow loosed followed by a second, and the world twisted and warped. A silent cry ripped through the world and across your blood, plunging you into pain and fear even as your body fought off the enemies of your flesh. Your soul felt wrenched in so many directions as your mind carefully led you across the battlefield, your inner blood boiled even as your body fought with all it was worth and killed all that was destined to be, save one…

  
  


The battle ended. The white wizard had come with Rohan's most loyal and the trees had their revenge… and still he stood.

 

Nothing could tear your gaze from him, or rather your inner gaze. You did not know where he had gone, only that he was alive. You could feel it.

The world was still twisted, as it had been all that time ago, but somehow the groaning of the world more futile.

Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. It screamed this, yet you could not bring yourself to regret. All the world's fear and hatred descended upon you, yet you did not regret. You could not. You had saved a life.

 

Men called to you, but you did not hear them. 

Your weapons were cast aside, yet still weighed heavily.

The world twisted so much you became ill… and this you could not bear.

 

As a madman might, you tore into the great halls of leaders with cries you knew they would not understand, yet needed to hear.

 

“Please,” you cried, “you must listen to me!! There is a terrible amiss, please!!”

 

Guards tried to drag you away, this you knew, though you could not feel their biting armor.

 

He was there.

His gaze fell upon you, the world twisted so violently, yet suddenly nothing had ever been as clear as his stark blue gaze.

 

His eyes shocked you down to your core, and despite all that you knew- you knew the world had been wronged again by your presence- never had you known it to be so right.

 

“Leave off him!” 

Aragon came to your aid, removing the grips from your arms that had bit too deeply. You could now all too well feel their sting. “Leave him!”

 

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Theoden, Gandalf, Eowyn, Eomer, Haldir… you knew their names. The names of the Lord's and masters in this crucial war. This war that you suddenly knew held everything in it's balance. A balance you had tipped too far.

 

“What brings a soldier such as yourself to say something is amiss,” the king demanded of you. “Speak of this ill!”

 

Your words caught in your throat, eyes darting to the form of the elf Lord. Haldir…

 

“I.. that is to say, my lords..”

 

You bowed low, to your knees, arms clutching the wounds you had sustained. You did not know now how to speak of it.

The world gave you the words, but you dared not say them.

 

It spoke of how you had made a mistake, how one standing should not be, yet you could not speak such things. His grace, his beauty could not be more right for the world.

 

“Speak or be gone!” Theoden king cried.

 

Tears lined your face as your gaze returned upwards. It fell to that of Aragorn and to that of Legolas as long as you were able to stand looking at the elf.

The world twisted in sickening ways every time you did, but you tried to stay strong. Fate had told you you were never to meet with them, and yet here you knelt.

 

“Mi’lord,” you choked, “please understand… I mean no harm.. only to say I have.. only to say that a mis-”

 

You could not get out the words. You could not say you had wronged or told them of a mistake that was not one.

 

Closing your eyes, you reached deep within yourself. The twisting and contorting of the world made it difficult to bear, you felt you were going to be sick, but you pushed on nonetheless. You pushed until finally you heard the gasps of shock, and still you pushed just a bit further.

The world shook in protest and twisted and crashed all around you while all went perfectly still.

You opened your eyes to the shocked, but intact faces of your lords with a breathless sigh. You had returned to your true self.

 

“My lord, Aragorn,” you said, still unable to catch your breath with how the world spun around you, yet did not move, “please recall my face, as I have not the strength to tell it to you.”

 

Taken aback, both Aragorn and Legolas did recognize and were confused.

 

“What sorcery-?”

 

Aragorn held up a hand and carefully kneeled in front of you. You felt not worthy of such an honor even if he had been but a humble ranger, yet still he did. The world twisted.

 

“Friend of the Dúnedain- the undying lady..”

 

All save Aragorn were lost.

 

“It is an old tale, one known to none save the Dúnedain for it is their most closely guarded secret, tell me what brings you out of their wood?”

 

“Fear,” you say without hesitation. The words flow from you as if under compulsion, though you know you are under none.

 

“Fate would have me stay in those woods wandering alone- fate brought the Dúnedain to their ruin through my presence- and yet fate I could not heed. From the trees I fled, wanting only what was best for them though I know they are doomed… shapeshifter they called me.. the most beautiful creature they could ever see, and their doom for I would be nothing but lovely for all eternity. Their one desire.

Spirit of the woods I was to become, but I could not stay.

Humans, solace I found in Rohan.. content to die as an old woman, but again my fate I could not accept, I would not leave men to die whilst I hid away and decayed… all was still right with the world..”

 

Looking past Aragorn you Caught the gaze of Haldir, but guilt brought your gaze to the floor. You were not worthy.

 

“I fought. I saved  _ men _ and all was still  _ right _ with the world.”

 

A sturdy hand found its way to your shoulder and all the world contorted.

“And yet you speak as if you have wronged..”

 

Fate demanded you wail, you cry out as a madman to drive all away from your presence- for the dwarf to hail you a witch and for all to fear- yet again you defied. No sound came save the soft reply, “I have stolen one from his fate.. and changed the fate of this world. Destined for…”

 

You could not say, yet it was understood.

 

“Of whom do you speak?”

His words were only for you, so quiet that not even the elves were to hear.

 

Your head rose not to look at Aragorn, but to answer his question. Haldir’s blue eyes gazed at yours with an intensity you could not tear from. Even as the world cried and buffeted against you, you could remove yourself from it, yet from his gaze you could not.

You did not see Aragorn turn, but you felt his grip change once, and then again as he shifted back.

 

You could not turn your head, you could not speak, all was fixed on the elven Lord as the world still cried and churned. 

 

“Lady Shifter…”

 

All was wrong with the world, yet you could not regret. All was wrong.. all was right…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like this one? Wanna drop me a line? Find me on Tumblr!!  
> ending-to-begin.tumblr.com
> 
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	3. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Look!! Smut.

When next you woke, it was dark. You were housed in a room without crowd as you were used to, and the moon shown through the window peacefully. You had fainted, you realized, and yet for all your cryptic remarks, were being treated as a friend. 

 

As you sat up, you felt a single rear roll down your cheek. Touching it, you realized it was one of joy, not sorrow.

A shock as all tears you had shed before were of sadness and despair, yet this was not.

A simple joy, and a complex feeling. It was of hurt, but joy of hurt. Longing, yet contentment. Pride, yet more humility than you had ever experienced.

 

You were startled to find there was someone watching you, and as he stepped out of the shadows, another tear glimmered in the moonlight upon your cheek.

 

Haldir was as he was meant to be, bathed in moonlight, armor only to protect his skin from breeze adorned, eyes bright and alive.

 

The world, for now, was at peace, yet you could not move as you watched him. 

 

As gentle as any elf, save moreso for his strength, he came to sit on your bedside.

 

“Welcome back,” he said quietly.

 

You gave a gentle nod, keeping your eyes low and humbled.

 

“To what do I owe such honor as your greeting?” You asked.

 

“It was asked that you were looked after,” he said in return. “A watch to ensure you did not pass in the night. Your wounds were grievous, and your words heavy.”

 

There was nothing you could say in response. You had told them all you knew, yet not enough of yourself for it to make sense. Had they understood? Or were they waiting to?

 

A gentle finger found your chin and rose your gaze. Looking into those piercing eyes, you were surprised to watch them soften.

 

“I am told I owe you my life.”

 

You swallowed heavily, turning your head gently away.

He pulled you back, eyes still soft.

 

“And yet that it grieves you so.”

 

Your head was already shaking before your words came to you.

 

“No,” you replied, “it does not grieve me to see you live… only that I have.. that the world.. you were destined to… 

Forgive me.. It is difficult to say.”

 

“My fate has been altered,” he said.

You had no choice but to nod. So little made sense and yet all of it did.

 

“For that, I am grateful.”

 

Looking up, you felt confusion. He did not speak of the preciousness of life as a normal man would, no, but of something deeper.

Life was precious to all creatures, but also to die was an honor. Haldir spoke as if he had expected himself to pass, but had been granted more than that falsehood. As if some higher honor had found him.

You did not understand… you dared not think of what it was he meant, for that was to hope. For that was to be a creature bound by fate even moreso, something you had thwarted many times within the past years of your life. You were not sure you were ready to do it again, nor were you sure you were ready to follow it. You could not be sure.. yet that piercing gaze was absolutely certain. Many more lives had he lived, but more than that… you had never been more certain of any reality than that of his gaze. It took you in, grounded you, made you feel just as alive as you always should have been and more. It gave you  back the breath you had held for far too long.

Still, even as it did, two tears fell from your eyes- one for joy and one for sorrow.

Joy in that you had thwarted fate and been placed under his staggering eyes, and sorrow in that you knew it could never fall upon you in such a way as you found yours falling upon him. Fate was all too cruel, this you knew, especially when overruled.

It could not be…

 

The gentlest of caresses found your jaw and under your ear before Haldir's grip regained it's strength. His arm pulled you forward and you found your lips sealed against his.

 

Your mind reeled even as your arms rose to pull him closer.

Perhaps this was a thank-you and nothing more. Some form of gratitude he believed you would appreciate, but nothing more, for you dared not hope… dared not believe even with all you knew of elven culture and the significance of touch between them. Aragorn had, after all, taken the elf in his arms upon greeting him here.

After all… the love you had always been extended had lead to nothing but doom.. it had never been true. How could it be for even one such as he?

 

You turned your head, breathing heavily from both embarrassment and from yet more fear that bubbled up.

 

“I am sorry,” you apologized, once more unable to meet his gaze lest you not be able to break free once more. 

Haldir gave you your space, but left his hand resting over your collarbone.

 

You reached up, too fearful of the touch to allow it to stay. He took to holding your hand instead, something the meaning of which you could only guess at.

 

“Please forgive me,” you pleaded, “I know it will never let you rest..”

 

You spoke of two things- the infatuation of which too many men had fallen into for you, and that of the world, which would always be trying to correct itself.. to right what had been wronged.

 

“You are here by my side,” he said, “and for that I no longer fear death.”

 

More confused than ever, you finally met his eyes once more.

“What?”

 

Another tear for joy and sorrow left your eyes. He could not possibly know of your curse.

 

“I am a shapeshifter,” you told him, removing your hand from his for being so unworthy. “I will be the form you desire most, but it will not be real… to love me is to be cursed…”

 

Without hesitation, his hand reached out and two fingers brushed your skin.

 

“What has driven you to think so little of yourself?… my lady, it does not matter what form you take, for that is not what draws me to you… it is  _ who _ you are.”

 

Those words, so significant to you, being spoken by him made you gasp. You could not help but to look at him in disbelief. You could not dare to hope… to hope and believe these feelings were not just your own.. and yet you did.

His words… you could not help but  _ to _ hope.. to want to believe them.

You knew nothing of this man.. this elf whom you thwarted the fate of, yet you could not bear to want to be anywhere else. 

The world was silent then, you realized. It had conspired against you, had torn you asunder and beaten you for not following it's plan, and yet, here in this room, so close to that which you feared most- elf kind and the love he extended- it was no longer churning.

 

“So many lifetimes I have lived,” he said, breaking you of your trance, “all of them alone. All of them to a death without finding… and to be here.. to be in this reality, this world where you have broken free, have thwarted all the world and to have found me when it conspired against us.. I could not be more grateful.”

 

None of it made sense and yet all of it did.

Lifetimes… the span of time itself. The endless cycle. Death and rebirth, peace and war… countless times this had played out and you had never met.. never until you had both fallen into darkness and reemerged on the other side, and only then for a short time did you have one another as fate conspired to keep you separate for nearly all eternity.

Two lost pieces of the whole… soul mates.

 

You threw your arms around his neck, weeping for how you finally understood. How your soul remembered.

“Haldir!”

His arms caught you and held you fast. He whispered thank-yous into your hair, his pulse beating strong and steady in your ear. 

You had finally won, but to know for certain…

 

This time, your lips met his. He reciprocated, and nothing had felt more right in all the world. Everything fell into place and held fast- so right it was, all fear ebbed away into nothing. So right it was your passion flared in opposition to the fear and cruelty the world had subjected you to for far too long. It would thwart you no more.

 

Haldir's hands were gentle, holding your head as you lay for him. Your lips were loath to break, but always when they did, nothing but devotion spilled from either of your tongues.

His fingers traced every inch that you bore for him and yours traced his. His shoulders were broad, his body strong, and his warmth all too inviting. You felt as if you had slipped into a dream, yet could not have felt more alive.

 

Your legs wrapped around his hips and your back arched for him as he entered you, as you both connected the pieces. It was your first time of the flesh- both of you only knowing the touch and murmurs of the soul, and you cried out.

 

He held you fast, helping you stay still for how you needed your time. He made no rush or demands of you until you were ready, until your bodies themselves claimed their peace.

 

Then he was as he should be, strong and caring, and you as you should be, just as strong and giving.

You gave him everything you had, even surprising him and making him laugh for how you turned to love him instead.

You caressed his ears at least once, remembering how fond you were of their shape and all they meant. You kissed his eyelids gently, relishing in the goosebumps that rose on his skin as you did so in appreciating his striking gaze.

You traced his shoulders and chest, marveling at how truly strong he had become in his years, and sorrowing for all the scars you had never been able to mend or share for you bore none.

Your legs held his hips fast as you remained warm and inviting for him, caressing and pulling him as close as you could.

 

“I love you,” you whispered and his body and more responded. You could feel his soul resonating with yours- the light and love he carried flaring brightly for you, all that he was claiming you as he was claimed.

It was a beautiful moment that lasted an eternity, yet not long enough.

 

You both collapsed, breathing heavy, but content.

 

“I have requested the watch until dawn,” he said. “Rest and I will rest with you, and we will find what fate demands of us after.”

 

You agreed and laid your head down on his chest, grateful and content.

 

It was just before dawn that you woke, gently rousing Haldir after you were certain it had not been a dream.

He helped you dress in a gown and dressed in his robes before guiding you back into your bed. He graced you with a kiss to the top of your head before he turned to greet Aragorn at the door. 

He had come to check on you, losing a bit of his sleep in worry.

Seeing you alert and content he bowed with relief and told you of what had transpired while you were asleep.

It had been decided to return to Rohan and to try and contact Gondor among the many who might aid in the fight.

You conceded that the points made were good, but worried of Haldir drawing near to the world of men.

Fate would not be so kind if he was to be involved.

Aragorn conceded that he was worried as well and that they would find a suitable solution. Haldir agreed and they both gently took their leave to allow you more rest.

Fear gripped you once more, though you were content. 

Dreams did not come as you regained your strength, nor did any change until you woke. 

It had been just in time before they were to try and rouse you to begin the journey back.

 

You inquired about Haldir and you were told he was waiting for you on the tower wall.

 

You found him and asked what it was he felt was right.

He said he did not wish to abandon his friends- much to the churning of your gut-  but that he understood what his place and role needed to be in the world, what it had become.

 

He extended you his hand and offered for you to join him in his home, and to join him in his journey to the undying lands. With joyful tears in your eyes you gladly accepted.

Haldir, more than anyone else, understood the irony and cruelty fate could play. They would be safer- all the world would only be right if he and you were to take your leave to a rightful place. You could do no more without turning the world on it's heels and altering too much that it had in store. 

Neither of you wanted it to become a dark wasteland, and so you set off at the next dawn, going your separate ways from the fellowship. 

To the forest and then to shores you traveled with all that survived of Haldir's kin.

Galadriel and her king would remain until the last of their kin had taken the journey, and so gave you a special honor of their blessing before you passed before them.

 

Haldir held you close, directing the ship and her captain with precision and speed so as to be able to share all he could with you without the threat of fate interfering again.

 

And all was right with the world once more.


End file.
